Metaphors to the Stasis
by Well of Allsparks
Summary: The Autobots had once been where the humans had been, but as aliens they are not trusted to come close enough to stop the impending doom the humans are bringing upon themselves. Short but sweet, with no dialogue. In the form of narration.


Just a short oneshot from an unnamed Autobot. You can decide who's talking. Think of it as... telling a story. Heavily metaphorical, or you could take it as incredibly AU. Doesn't really matter either way. I don't own Transformers, Autobots, Sam, or humans. Hope you like it.

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Before the world went up in flames, there was a boy with a bucket of water. He stood by the embers of a long-kept camp for while all the others called him crazy. They called him different; they alienated him.

But still he stood where he had been placed. Still he held the bucket given to him, carrying water filled for him. Still he waits with the mission assigned to him by those that weren't allowed near the fire.

For the other campers feared the dwellers of the forest in which they visited. The campers had come, thinking the forest empty, only to find it filled with a group of people who have already played with fire. So they were pushed a safe distance away. Out of the ring of light and warmth the presently domestic fire offered.

But they stood there, waiting, at the edge of that ring. They watched the campers with sad eyes, for they knew how this vacation would end for them all.

They watched the boy with the water bucket. From where they stood, they could see his face with n the light of the flickering flames. They could see how focused he was on the fire and how white his knuckles were as they gripped the bucket they'd given him. From the edge of the camp's boundaries, the tribe waited fearfully. From the edge of the fire, the boy waited with determination. And the campers lived on, calling the boy weird and the tribe alien.

At least, until the fire is stoked one too many times. Embers fly out, splattering every direction, and there was only a split second opportunity to quell the flames before it was too late.

The boy, having waited for so long, rose to the occasion. He stepped up boldly, accepting his duty and hefting the water bucket high up to save the world before it was too late.

The tribe was circling the camp, ready to abandon their promise to the campers, as they anxiously watching d their boy.

Then, that split second was over. Flames had erupted in every direction, and once again, a camp was burnt to cinders by campers who stoked the fire too eagerly. They were left motionless on the ground. Many dead, some burned severely, and others so deeply grievous that they may never heal. The fire was no longer domestic and projecting a small, flickering light in a circle around their tents. It licked the air from the ground _everywhere_ for as far as the eye could see. Trees, bushes, and tents all enveloped in the wild fire.

But nearest the fire, there was a black spot pressed into the ground in an identical fashion to the black spots in a circle around what used to be the camp.

Minutes rolled by before the black spots began to move. The tribe remained, healthy and protected under their fire-proof blankets.

However, there were two under the blanket nearest the blaze's origin. One that sat up with the same demeanor as all the others, and one that remained laying down. The boy stayed with his face in the mud, the ends of his hair singed, and his knuckles white around the now empty bucket. The camp fire was now gone, but the water had falls only too late.

So the boy remained, laying in shock and horror with the rest of his fellow surviving campers. Someone picked him up, and someone took him away.

But they only took the boy, the boy that was too distraught upon the realization that he had failed to even acknowledge he'd been taken. They left all the other campers, for now is the time in which they must discover how to cope and survive on their own.

Another planet falls, and families continue to grow. You can't blame yourself. The task we had placed upon you was near impossible, and it was too much for us to have asked in the first place.

Realize this, and come back to us.

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This was the sort of short, ambiguous narration I'd write while procrastinating math homework. I believe this one I wrote seven or eight months ago...

Please leave a review if you're the type. If not, ignore the request appropriately.


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